Liberty Phillips had been locked away for a full week.
During all that time, Warren Hawkins hadn't come to see her once. The only faces she saw were the staff, showing up like clockwork morning, noon, and night with food and water. Liberty's fingers were swollen, dark bruises spidering across her knuckles. Even the slightest movement sent a fresh throb of pain through her hands.
At Warren's insistence, her phone had been confiscated—he didn't want her posting anything online that might tarnish the Hawkins name.
On the seventh evening, the door swung open. Warren stood on the threshold, sparing her only a quick glance. Just behind him in the hallway, a servant waited with a set of clean clothes.
"Get ready. We have visitors," he announced.
A week of confinement had drained Liberty's resistance. She rose mechanically and walked to the door. Pausing beside Warren, she looked up at him.
"My finger is broken," she said.
His gaze flicked to her swollen fingers for a fleeting second, then shifted away. "I'll have a doctor see to it," he replied flatly, turning and walking off.
Liberty stood in the hallway, watching his back until he disappeared down the stairs.
The servant handed her the clothes, lowering her voice. "Ma'am, please change quickly. Mr. Hawkins Sr. is on his way."
Liberty hesitated briefly. Since retiring, Mr. Hawkins Sr. had mostly stayed out of the spotlight, and she'd only met him a handful of times.
When she reached the first floor, the living room was already occupied.
Valentin Hawkins—Warren's father—sat in the center of the sofa. Beside him, cradling the baby from the photograph, was the woman they'd been discussing.
As Liberty entered, Valentin gestured toward an empty seat. "This is Hailey Castro. She'll be the nanny looking after the baby," he announced. His gaze then settled on Liberty. "Liberty, while Hailey is here, everyone in this household should treat her with respect."
The words were spoken gently, but they weren't a request.
Liberty opened her mouth to say something, but one look at Warren's indifferent face made her swallow the words down.
Valentin lowered his gaze, cooing and playing with the baby in his arms, his expression soft.
Warren, on the other hand, just sat there watching.
Liberty couldn't shake a sense of unease, though she couldn't say exactly why.
After a while, Valentin handed the baby back to Hailey, rose alongside Warren, and the two of them left the room together. Before leaving, he reiterated to the household staff how Hailey was to be treated and instructed the butler to prepare the guest room for her stay.
The room emptied until only Liberty and Hailey were left.
Standing by the couch with the baby in her arms, Hailey's demeanor shifted. The humble mask was gone, replaced by a small, smug smile that curled at the corners of her lips as she looked Liberty over.
"What happened to your hand, Mrs. Hawkins?" she asked, nothing but nosy curiosity in her voice.
Liberty ignored her.
Hailey settled into the main chair, placing the baby in her lap and gently rocking him. She glanced up at Liberty. "You heard Mr. Hawkins Sr., right? Make sure you don't cause me any trouble."
Liberty studied her, acutely aware of the throbbing pain in her finger.
"You're just a nanny. Why would I bother with you?"
"Good," Hailey replied casually, eyes still on the baby. "I've been sitting here for a while, and I'm getting thirsty. Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee, Mrs. Hawkins?"
Liberty stood her ground, a small laugh nearly escaping her. This woman, new to the household, was already trying to assert her dominance. Expecting the lady of the house to pour her coffee—this wasn't about thirst. It was a power play.
Liberty chose not to respond or move. Instead, she called toward the kitchen, "Sky, bring some coffee, please."
Hailey chuckled softly—a quiet, unsettling sound. "No one makes it quite like you, though. I'd much prefer it if you poured it, Mrs. Hawkins."
Sky appeared with a coffee tray, hesitating just inside the doorway, her eyes flicking between Liberty and Hailey. Liberty didn't want to drag Sky into this, so she took the cup herself and bent to pass it over.
As her hand reached Hailey's, Hailey's fingers clamped around Liberty's injured one and squeezed—hard and deliberate.
Liberty's breath caught. Her grip went slack. The cup fell. Scalding coffee splattered across the baby's face.
The infant's shrill cry pierced the room, shredding its fragile silence. His face flushed red, his mouth stretched wide in a heartbreaking wail, his little body writhing in Hailey's arms.
"Blame me if you want, but leave the child out of this!" Hailey screamed, her voice sharp and panicked.